


Undoes Your Disbelief

by deathwailart



Series: Ghillie Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Spoilers, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:32:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2718878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To love another is something<br/>like prayer and it can’t be planned, you just fall<br/>into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief - Anne Sexton</p>
<p>Or: Dorian and Ghillie Lavellan, sharing a bed and taking a moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undoes Your Disbelief

"Warm enough?" Ghillie asks as he plucks the last blanket from before the fire, bringing it over to the bed the way he did with their clothes.  
  
"Not quite I don't think," Dorian replies, looking studiously about as he arranges the numerous blankets after they made sure all the windows were shut tight and the drapes closed to keep the warmth in. Dorian's friend Maevaris really was right about him and the cold, enough so that Ghillie was the one to add a line in his own hand when he wrote back promising not to let him wilt. It had been worth Dorian's scandalised protests even as he shoved his hands under Ghillie's shirt only moments later so Ghillie would fully appreciate just how cold they were and that they were in danger of freezing to his staff or falling clean off.  
  
"If you still say it's cold then I shudder to think what would happen to me in Tevinter. Would I melt? Burst into flame?"  
  
"It depends – I'm sure there are plenty of magisters who would fix you with such a look that you'd swear they'd just dropped a rage demon on top of you." Ghillie snorts as he laughs but honestly, they probably would do that to him, at least certain factions. "I've got half a mind to do it myself if you don't hurry it up."  
  
"Tut tut, patience is a virtue. Isn't it?" He should have picked something other than the Chantry for this, he still doesn't really retain most of what he learns about it other than it's not for him and if they could all just leave him to fight demons in peace that he'd be far happier and have far fewer headaches on a regular basis. Dorian rolls his eyes but he does as asked, wriggling into the bed and fighting the momentary panic as the weight of the blankets hits him just before Dorian is right there, plastered along his front and sighing happily. It gives Ghillie the chance to rub his neck and down to his shoulders, thumbs and fingertips locating all the tense spots from earlier – not from slinging spells and hefting staves but from being hunched over with books and candles, poring over notes Dorian had been making with Tevinter tomes, translating it to Ghillie as he went.  
  
When this is all over, Ghillie thinks that he'd be very content to be locked in a cosy library to read and research and debate with Dorian, tossing ideas back and forth. Dorian's already promised to find him at least a few tomes he can think of that have a great deal to do with elven magic adapted by the Imperium although of course it's not actually referred to as such by the mages of Tevinter. A private library though would have a few other advantages that Ghillie can think of such as no one walking in when you take a break and go to sit in your lover's lap to trade kisses and let him rebraid parts of your hair because it's apparently hugely distracting.  
  
"Sometimes I wake up and I think that this won't be real. That it's some dream I'm having," Dorian says quietly, lying on his side facing Ghillie, smiling as he reaches out to cup his face in one hand, thumb following the curve of Vallaslin along Ghillie's cheek. "I'll wake up and I'll be home in Tevinter, perhaps father's magic would have worked how he wanted and this is the lie I tell to keep myself sane married to some poor girl who doesn't want to be saddled with me, some lie he's finally shaped to perfection. Or it didn't work and I'm trapped in my own head, drooling uncontrollably and it's just some fantasy I've concocted."  
  
Ghillie doesn't know what to say, his throat tight as he reaches for Dorian's hand, squeezing gently. "Dorian..."  
  
"Oh I know it's real but still..." He smiles, soft, almost unsure and it's strange to see still, a sort of honour and a privilege that Dorian trusts him enough with the side of him the world doesn't see. He brings his forehead to rest against Ghillie's, warm and solid, their own private world up here away from the Breach and Corypheus, as if the mad world outside the door doesn't exist.  
  
"I love you," Ghillie says because he can't say it enough, "ma vhenan. You are...you're remarkable. I never dreamed I'd meet someone like you, and not in all of this. You make your choices and you stand by them, you never apologise for being who you are-" A kiss interrupts him, gentle, almost chaste and he remembers that love like this is not allowed in Tevinter. The tender moments where you can lie together for hours and say nothing, just _being_ with someone.  
  
"I love you too amatus," Dorian replies, lips brushing as he speaks and Ghillie can feel his cheeks heat. He's always flustered around Dorian, always trying to keep up because to the world he is the herald and the inquisitor and even before that he was the First, only a tiny select few and the Keeper ever teased him and none like Dorian. "Now if we're done being so incredibly mushy here."  
  
Ghillie laughs, brushes his nose against Dorian's and rearranges them so Dorian's head is resting on his shoulders. It'll take time and he suspects that Dorian is like him, always quick with a joke and a comment, but one day there might be just a touch less deflection and he'll do whatever he can to help that. He reaches out, casting a fire spell so it'll stay warm in their room longer, unwilling to get out of bed to poke at it although Dorian will still manage to kick the covers off his feet in the night and warm them on Ghillie's bare legs.  
  
"Show off. Lazy show off."  
  
"They don't go together I don't think."  
  
"And yet somehow you manage it, now who's remarkable."  
  
Ghillie groans even as he laughs, sorely tempted to hit Dorian with a pillow or a little flash of ice. "That was awful."  
  
"You love it."  
  
"I love you."  
  
It's Dorian's turn to groan but he's smiling, Ghillie can just see it, almost surprised by it all and he remembers what he overheard when Cole and Dorian were talking when they were away not so long ago and it makes his heart clench, as preposterous a notion as it is. "I know, perhaps one day I'll fully understand it. But now, we have a bed and a fire, we're indoors and it's warm. Get some sleep or Josephine and Cassandra will have me for breakfast when you fall asleep at the war table."  
  
Still, it's Dorian who drifts off first, Ghillie running fingers through his hair until Dorian is fast asleep, studying his face and how relaxed he is, how much younger he looks when he's asleep and at peace. He dares to brush a thumb over closed eyelids, long soft eyelashes, down his nose and along the moustache, freezing when Dorian makes a noise and wriggles away. He'll need to remember that in future.  
  
"Sleep well, emma lath," he whispers as he curls closer and he can swear that Dorian smiles.


End file.
